


My Roommate Is A Clown//A BatJokes Fanfiction

by PuppetKween



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Bruce Wayne, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Anal, Anal Sex, Angst, Batjokes, Batman - Freeform, Batsy, Blow Jobs, Bottom Joker (DCU), Bruce Wayne is Batman, Comedy, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gay, Gay Sex, Harley Left Joker, Lemon, M/M, Romance, Roommates, Smutty, Supervillain, The Joker - Freeform, Tired Alfred Pennyworth, Yaoi, clown, hero - Freeform, prisoner, roomies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:08:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23277604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuppetKween/pseuds/PuppetKween
Summary: "You hated me, and I loved it.""Because love and hate are the same."Batman almost kills the Joker during one of their "games" which leads Batman to bring him home to Wayne Manor. Not only does he jeopardize his identity but he learns that Joker has no where left to turn, allowing him to stay as his very unusual roommate.Should Bats have just gotten him a room at Arkham Asylum instead?
Relationships: Batjokes - Relationship, Batman/Joker, Bruce Wayne/Joker, Joker (DCU) & Bruce Wayne, Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne, Joker/Batman
Comments: 36
Kudos: 185





	1. The Joker Responsibility

"Playtime is over Joker, tell me where you're keeping the Commissioner hostage, NOW!" Batman bellowed, fists clenched.

His patience were being tried much harder as these games lingered on, The Bat becoming more and more disturbed.

Of course, this delighted the homicidal clown that stood before him with his signature malicious grin. The Joker's only purpose in life had become to turn his nemesis into himself. A maniac with no self control, hellbent on pure and poetic chaos.

"JOKER!" Batman barked, grabbing ahold of the other man's purple coat. "Answer me!" He raised his fist as the Joker cackled and stammered to find his voice.

"E-easy Bats, h-have mercy old friend!" The madman giggled, earning him a blunt punch to the cheek.

"Ooh, owie, I swear by this point I should tattoo your knuckles onto my face that says fist here, Batman!"

The Bat lifted up the shorter, thinner male and slammed him down onto the pavement, causing the wind to be completely knocked out of the Clown Prince of Crime. Joker did his best to laugh at Batman's antics but gasped and sputtered for air instead. The Dark Knight narrowed his eyes and waited for Joker to speak, his eyes saturated with hate. He hovered over his twitching body, aching to break his fragile-looking neck.

"O-okay, I'll tell youuuu- hehehe!" Joker held his sides once he gained enough oxygen to laugh again, his toothy smile deepening Batman's glare.

The green-haired lunatic stretched his arms up toward the black figure, humming merrily. "No more jokes, Bats. I'll take you to your precious Jimmy. Be a dear and help me to my feet?"

The Vigilante hesitated before silently but forcibly grabbing ahold of Joker's wrist and standing him upright, shoving him forward in front of himself.

"Lead me to him," Batman ordered, his fists immediately curling back up as if their only job in The Joker's presence was to beat him.

"Sure thing, Bat-freak, Hahahahaha!" Joker cackled before getting shoved again, making his way toward an old abandoned warehouse.

Once they got inside the dusty building, Batman looked around, getting a very eerie feeling in his gut that told him something was not right. But what was right in any situation involving the Joker? Batman's detective instincts were on high alert, scanning the place for any tricks or traps. Joker was just too unpredictable for him to want to deal with.

Suddenly, a voice deep within the dismal warehouse cried, "help, Somebody, help me!" Sending Batman's feet running toward it. It didn't sound like Gordon's voice at all but it was definitely the voice of a man in trouble.

Joker's laugh filled the warehouse as the hero looked for the distressed citizen. Oh GOD how he loved to play with old Bats! Watching Batman get so worked up and angry because of **him**. Watching Batman put his life on the line at every turn because of **him**.

Because of **him**.

 **Him**.

"The Joker," Joker whispered to himself, clenching his fists happily. Something inside of his crazy mind lit up like the Fourth of July.

He stared at them as they shook with excitement, his huge smile somehow stretching until the corners of his mouth met the corners of his eyes. It was because of Joker Batman wasted his time and lost sleep. It was because of Joker Batman could not live a normal life. Joker's heart pounded at the thought of Batman only being who he was because of his _own_ existence.

"H-he needs me," He whispered to himself once again, clutching his head.

He bent himself backwards before bursting into a maniacal fit of laughter at this sudden realization, tears streaming down his cheeks. He now had information that Batman did not know about regarding their "relationship."

That put a hefty burden on the Clown's shoulders. Then again, having Gotham's most beloved little hero wrapped around his pinky finger made his face STING with joy!

"Oohhhh BATSY," Joker crowed, biting the knuckle of his index finger until he drew blood. 

"Hahahahahaha, come out to plaaaaayyyyy!"

The maniac spun around in a circle like a drunken fool, feeling high and on top of the world. He knew he was fanboying and there was nothing that could stop him. But he did not care, all he wanted to do now was to prove to Bat-face that he was his number one!

Batman ignored that insane, failed comedian's taunts, hoofing it to rescue that poor guy suffering from one of Joker's elaborate traps-

"What. In. The hell," Batman's eye twitched as he scooped up a tape recorder in his massive hand.

That same voice repeated itself from it, Batman opening the recorder to take out a little green tape that read 'Gotcha!' In red lettering.

The world's "greatest detective" could not believe it. He had fallen for such an old trick and it made his insides squirm with self-doubt. He crushed the device as if it were made of aluminum and slammed the pieces down, seeing red. It dawned on him that the Commissioner was not trouble. He was not there. This really was just a game to the Joker this time. A game that did not allow him to take over Gotham. Just a game to _fuck_ with his mind.

**How could he have let Joker GET him?**

How could he have fallen prey to such a simple prank? The secret billionaire advanced dangerously toward his chortling nemesis with a glower that would have made the entire Justice League put themselves in handcuffs. He was through talking to this piece of shit fool. Batman's mind swarmed with dark, horrible thoughts regarding this Clown's fate and blinding him to the fact that this is what Joker has been wanting all along.

He wanted Batman for once to stoop to his level and prove that he was **just like him.**

The Bat was done talking. Done wasting his time when real crime could be going on elsewhere and it was this asshole's fault that he was not there! It would be Joker's fault if innocents die over his absence!

Interrogation was no longer necessary.

Batman's next move was carried out with such aloofness that the Joker almost stopped laughing to ask him if he was mad at him. But he wouldn't have time. The next thing Batman knew was the sound of glass breaking along with Joker's laugh dying out completely.

Silence. Peace. Tranquility.

Everything the Bat had ever wanted from Joker...had now come.

The Detective's mind began to release a colorless fog that had been clouding it, causing him to blink and shake his head slowly. Once his vision cleared, his eyes fell upon Joker's crippled looking body surrounded by glass and a pool of blood that was slowly getting larger. His eyes were closed and his face was blank.

Out cold. It was a horrifying sight to say the least. Batman had literally wiped that infuriating smirk off of that buffoon's face. He just had no memory of even doing it. The Vigilante jogged over to his enemy and knelt down. He had pieces of glass stuck through him while parts of his body was sliced up and oozing crimson plasma. If The Bat had to guess, he'd say he went a little berserk and hurdled Joker's body into a giant pane of glass that had been left carelessly against a wall.

Did he mean to send Joker into a thick wall-sized piece of window? He couldn't remember. He did however make himself feel better by thinking that it was an old glass and or window warehouse, making it a total accident.

Joker was bleeding out fast so Batman got to work by enveloping his nemesis into his arms, using his cape to slow the process as much as possible. He was not a killer. Even though this was the Joker, he was not going to let him die. Holding Joker against him tight in one arm, Batman used his other to signal for the Batmobile, racing to catch it.

_'Alfred's not going to like this_ ,' Batman thought as he piled the two of them into his Dark Knight ride, skidding away on the cracked pavement.

The pale man in the other seat kept his head against the window, uttering a small moan that indicated he was still very much alive. It relieved The Hero only because it meant he got to keep a clean record on his only rule. He glanced over at him time and time again, expecting the psycho to jump up and try to kill him.

He didn't.

Not even as they reached the Bat Cave did Joker do much else.

"Shit, he's really hurt this time," Bat said just above a whisper to himself. He really wanted to be glad but he wasn't. Because whoever threw him back there was not him.

Something inside of him **snapped.**

Whatever it was had to wait because now Bruce Wayne had a self-inflicted Joker responsibility to tend to.

**~To Be Continued.**


	2. His New Guard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Joker has a moment to take in his fresh surroundings, while Bruce convinces himself that this is how the Clown will need to be managed from now on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, sorry for the late update, I’ve been so busy in the wake of this Virus stuff ironically! I really hope you enjoy this chapter and I encourage any comments~ xoxo

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

A dark purple heart laced with neon green veins pumped the scarlet liquid that kept the body alive. Here lies the body of a deranged lunatic that has lost his way for good and doubt is creased on the lines of his forehead. His ever so gleaming white skin was now a gray hue, tinted in a shade that screamed for a tender helping hand. A hand that he would snap off with his teeth and chew to pieces if it ever got too close. 

He didn't know how to be helped. He couldn't help himself so there was no point in letting someone else do it for him, as that would be mockery! 

Then why did he play that trick? Why did he lure the Bat onto a poorly executed stage with no script? He had nothing to go on except grab his enemy's attention any way he could and...regretfully ask for help the only way he knew best. There was shame in being a criminal mastermind and Gotham's most feared villain to a truly broken man that only looked the part. Heh, he had everyone fooled, including himself.

None of it mattered. Not anymore. He was dead now and he had broken Batman. 

He won.

He finally got what he had always wanted. He made the Batman turn on his golden rule! He won, he won, he won! 

"I won. I won. I won..." the Clown smiled in his sleep before licking his dry, unnaturally red lips. 

Oh God, why was he so thirsty? The dead can't get thirsty, can they?

Then, in a flash of abruptness, the Joker sat up in an unfamiliar room, his senses totally off. He squinted and looked around, taking in the ambience as if he had his own detective vision. As if he somehow knew where he was even though nothing was quite clear yet. God, what happened again? 

Oh, right. He was fighting the Bat. The Bat chucked his whole body into a mirror that almost caused him to bleed out. Joker looked down at himself and noticed he was half naked (save for a pair of white, baggy pants) but his upper frame was covered in medical wrap. Bandages covered his arms and he even noticed some stitches. He lifted one of his green fingernail fingers to brush against the padding on his head, his attitude already sour. 

All of these bandages, bandaids and stitches made him feel like some sort of hipster mummy! Ooohhh, no Siree bob, this was not in his definition book of what good fashion is! He was _not_ a 'fashion faux pas.' 

After the Jester was done remembering how he got there, he realized another thing. Batman must have saved him - again - and had him put in some...way fancier asylum. Or a group home, he could keep guessing all night. 

"Serves me right," Joker murmured to himself. "This is what I get for trying to ask the dense Bat in the Hat for help." 

The Clown hopped out of the bed, ignoring how sore he was and casually strode over to the door, opening it. No, not opening it. It was locked. Could have seen that from a mile away. He twisted the handle more aggressively even though he knew he should not alert anyone he was awake. Joker huffed before turning back around to jog over to the window. He ripped the hideous curtains down to find that the window had bars over it. The windows were tinted so black that there was no way he could make anything out of them. 

No doubt that man-sized rodent set this up. That was such an idiotic idea, because why would _he_ help _him?_ There was far too much hate by then for the Dark Knight to ever consider it. At one time...Batman did. But, since then, he's made it clear that he and Joker had nothing. Were nothing. That he was sick to **death** of the Clown and his destructive ways. 

The lunatic paced the room, trying to think up a good plan to bust that door down. Those bastards took all of his toys so he had nothing but his wit and his fists. His crazed green eyes studied everything in that room and noticed how "Joker-proof" it was. Absolutely nothing essential was in there. Except for a single landline telephone.

A phone! Yes, sweet mercy, a phone! 

The Joker cackled to himself before he grabbed that sucker up and beeped on it. He then noticed something else about the phone. It was labeled. Like in a hotel room that let the guest know what numbers to dial for room service or the front desk.

"Curiouser and curiouser," the Clown's menacing grin stretched across his face as he read what each of them said. 

_'The Kitchen.'_

_'The Laundry Room.'_

_'The Sitting Room.'_

There was just one he didn't quite understand. All it simply said was _'The Dark Room.'_

He knew which one he was going to try first. He set the phone up to his ear, using his shoulder to keep it nestled there. With a smug sneer on his face, he figured acting like a pest of a hotel guest would be fun before he broke out. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Master Bruce, I believe _it_ has finally woken up," a certain butler muttered in his usual, posh, english accent. 

Alfred was very unenthusiastic about this whole ordeal, just as Bruce expected. He voiced his many opinions while his adopted son threw his own back, but the man assured his father figure that this was something that he needed to do. 

Bruce, who was not sporting his cowl or cape, sat in the Bat Cave, staring at one of his large computer screens with a blank expression. The call was coming from that room and it was already rattling his nerves. He really didn't want to have to give the Joker a connection to the Cave but he felt it was necessary. It just made it easier for him to contact that deranged psychopath in times that he'd need to, but he also anticipated Joker abusing his phone privilege. 

Well, he had to face the music sometime. He answered the call.

"Joker." Bruce said calmly, listening to the rustling sounds on the other end of the line. He waited a few more seconds before repeating "Joker?" and paused for the Clown to respond through his monitor.

Finally, noise broke out as the madman couldn't hold it in anymore. 

"PppPPPppffttsshh, haHAHAhahahaaaaa, yes, hello! Did I get you there for a second, guy?!" Joker giggled over his own immature amusement before breathing heavily through the phone. 

Bruce rolled his eyes all the way up until his pupils were nearly in the back of his head. Oh, how he despised his dumb little tricks. 

"Yeah, you got me really good there," the billionaire replied, not an ounce of emotion in his voice. Even though he was childish, Bruce knew he was not a force to be reckoned with.

"Heh, good," Joker said, licking his lips and making the sound audible through the phone. Bruce scrunched up his nose before Joker spoke again.

"Saaaaayy, you sure sound familiar, guy," the clown tapped his fingers against the nightstand in thought. 

The playboy grew nervous despite the fact that he let his archenemy into his home. This had been his idea and his plan and he knew that he had to take responsibility. He was aware that the reason why he brought the Joker here was because he didn't want him going back to Arkham this time. There was something too off about him. 

One single prank? No hostages? No explosions or henchmen? The Clown allowed himself to get defeated much too easy for Bat's comfort. He was the one who needed to get the answers out of the Harlequin of Hate himself. Without responding to Joker's suspicion, Bruce hung up and spun around away from his computers to think. With that villain awake and growing restless in that room slash prison cell, he had to get going. 

With a small grunt, the owner of Wayne Manor stood and left his secret fortress of solitude and all the comforts it gave him. His loyal butler and former guardian stayed behind to view the monitors and probably get some cleaning in there done. 

Heat rose from Bruce’s cheeks as he strode toward **that** room. His facial muscles twitched lightly and his scowl deepened the closer he got. This lunatic was as unpredictable as they come and he never could be prepared to face him. Never truly prepared.

And it made him sorely indignant.

To his dismay, he arrived at the room he stuck the Jester in and stood outside of it like a ghost unsure of what he was about to haunt. Instead of getting his enemy’s attention though, he honed in to the sounds at the other end, wondering what that killer could be up to. 

_‘Plotting an escape?’_ Bruce thought pompously. _‘Well, that’s not going to happen, Joker. Not in my house and not on my watch.’_

After listening to the fiend talk to himself and roam around long enough, Bruce stepped up to the door and slid aside a rectangular opening in the door. One that would enable him to meet those ghastly, acid-green eyes of the whacko. What the Joker didn’t know was the barricade that kept him sealed up was a state of the art, heavy steel security door. One that he set up himself to assure that fool couldn’t magically transport like he normally did. The Billionaire carefully took a glance inside of the room which was a mess now, most likely from a little clownish tantrum from his prisoner. 

But where the hell was the _Clown?_

Panic set in at the pit of Bruce’s stomach as his eyes searched the room, trying to tell himself that it was impossible for the Joker to not be in there. It was impossible, impossible, impos-

“Peek-A-Boo~!” Joker sang, waving his hands in front of the space that Bruce’s eyes occupied.

This assuredly scared Bruce and caused him to jump back a bit, his cheeks creating even more heat. 

The trying Clown had crouched himself below the peek hole, just waiting for it to open. He knew. 

The Batman without his suit felt the embarrassment set in at the provoking laughter that followed the silly prank, his lips curling over his teeth. 

“Enough Joker, stand up now and talk to me like an adult,” Bruce snarled, still keeping his distance. 

“Sure thing, _pal_ , I KNOW you’ve heard this, but you really DO remind me of a certain thorn in my side!” The psycho obliged playfully and stuck his eyes right into the opening so that he could get a good look at who in their right mind was trying to be commanding of the Clown Prince. 

As soon as his peepers settled on who was behind all of this, the maniac pressed his face into the door even deeper, certainly causing indentations in his face. His pupils shrank, just a tad, as he processed the image of the well-dressed male. His crazed grin shook as he struggled to maintain it, feeling a grimace begin to contort his eccentric visage.

“Buh-Buh-Bruce W-Wayne...? **You’re** my guard...?”

**~To Be Continued.**


	3. The Joker’s Keeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce Wayne and the Joker speak for the first time since Joker’s arrival. Bruce knows there is a lot of conflict ahead and he must invest in careful planning to make it work as the keeper of the Clown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note, Joker truly does not know that Bruce Wayne is Batman. I had to take that important aspect of him away to fit in with how I wanted this story. More fun stuff up ahead~! Comments are encouraged. xoxo

Bruce. Fucking. Wayne. Oh _my_.

That was who had the balls to keep the Joker against his will inside of his own (Bruce's) house!? Haha, the madman could hardly believe it! But there they were. Gawking at each other with mutual disgust and bitterness. Bruce's lips puckered out and his eyes narrowed at the Joker like he had just won the crown at a pageant. As if Bruce was the runner up and he was watching his enemy take the glory.

Regardless of Bruce's thoughts on Joker being frivolous, now the both of them were being childish. Because the Jester rubbed off on him more than he was truly aware. But nothing could even begin to describe how much Bruce despised this Clown. 

Despised that dirty, swamp water-green hair. Despised those vile, effulgent green eyes. That pasty, white skin. 

And worst of all...those sanguine, licorice lips that were always curved to flash the particularly vicious-looking teeth. His sharp cuspids seemed to hang over his bottom teeth, creating the illusion that he had fangs. It was so wicked. Every time Bruce saw them, his spine tingled at the thought of Joker using them in a fight. Grabbing ahold of his throat like a wild dog and refusing to let go, tearing the flesh.

The playboy quickly shook his head from those nightmarish thoughts and cursed himself for noticing the Joker too much. He knew every detail of his face by now; every curve, wrinkle and contour of his skin. That smell that didn't smell like anything that existed. A scent that belonged primarily to the Ace of Knaves. The hair in his nose coiled every time the Clown got too close and practically breathed on him. 

Every. Single. Little. Thing about this loon was evil. A corrupt, malignant tumor on the face of justice and Gotham. There was not a thing similar about them. That's what Bruce had to keep reminding himself every time the Clown insisted they were analogous. 

The Joker now had his mouth pressed against the opening of the heavy security door. That gargantuan, crescent moon-shaped aperture in his face was the only thing visible with his biting teeth presented to him. Mocking him. Like they had read his mind and were now trying to make his skin crawl on purpose. It was now _laughing_.

That same gaudy cachinnate that sent Batman over the edge and had him nearly destroy his nemesis. Bruce's fists folded so tight that his knuckles nearly turned the same color as Joker. He wanted to make it stop again. 

"What's - HA! - what's the matter Brucie, I thought we were gonna talk!?" Joker guffawed, trying to mask his irritability to the situation. Acting like he wasn't offended by being babysat by some rich boy. The Wayne Enterprises guy for fish's sake.

Joker could feel the uneasy Bruce Wayne. Feeding off of his antipathy for him and using it to his advantage. This was one of his many, many tactics and it contrasted his manipulative charm perfectly. The visibly shaken Billionaire was knocked out of his trance, his vision that had saturated the clown in red was starting to clear. That Clown's voice was nails on a chalkboard. 

There was also one thing Bruce was for sure of: Joker was not making any connection between him and the Batman. 

"Yes, ahem, of course we are," Bruce retorted, making he sure he was nice and tall. Showing this menace who was boss. "There are rules we need to discuss-,"

"Batman put you up to this didn't he!?" Joker suddenly snapped, his eyes once again visible to the man. The sclera of his eyes were yellow and they looked utterly furious.

"You made a deal with that Vigilante son of a bitch, why else would I be here!? Tell me, tell meeeeee!"

Somehow, his mood changes were harder for Bruce to combat without his cowl. He felt vulnerable and exposed, and he normally left it up to Arkham to handle his crap. Fight him, then drop him off. That had been the routine...until now. Now it was his liability. The whole entire Joker was now his burden and it made him shiver with aversion to the unknown. 

"What the Batman and I have is none of your concern Joker. Our business is and will always be _classified_ ," Bruce sniffed, making sure he really pulled off the imperious businessman card.

From the looks of the Clown Prince's hardening glare, it was most certainly working. If Bruce didn't know any better as the world's finest detective, he would say he saw **jealousy** in the Joker's expression. 

Just when Bruce thought the Fool was going to yell at him some more, he started cackling like a sick hyena. Except this time, the laughter wasn't that of amusement, it was malevolent and full of rage. An ill feeling settled at the bottom of Bruce's stomach as his ears endured this, straining to figure out what to do. It was hard to think with that inflection stabbing into his very core. 

"He's using you!" Joker exclaimed once his laughing fit had subsided, gasping through the opening of the door. He still had his wild grin directed at the Playboy.

It took Bruce a moment to process those three words, blinking and contorting his face into that of bewilderment.

"He's _using_ me? What are you getting at, Clown?"

"HAHAhahaHa, isn't it obvious!? I know you're too STUPID to see it, which is why I'm going to break it to you, Richie Rich," Joker's eyes gleamed at the thrill of possibly taking over the man's mind.

"Bats works alone. Sure, he's had his little Wonder pets, but these days he has been veerrryyyy strict with keeping Gotham aaaaall to his greedy self!"

Bruce could see the saliva popping out of that huge mouth and past those freakish chops of Joker's. He was so extra creepy to him at this moment he wanted to just shut the sliding panel in the door. 

"And that includes his numerous refusals to get the Justice League involved," Joker finished, rubbing his nose and smelling his hand afterward.

The owner of Waynecorp watched his secret rival, analyzing him. How he spoke about Batman was admittedly impressive. The Joker really thought he knew everything about the hero like some dedicated fanatic that didn't have a clue on reality. Bruce convinced himself that the madman's knowledge was based on nothing but observation.

"That doesn't explain how he's using me," Bruce said, one eyebrow raised skeptically.

Joker smacked himself on the forehead with his palm and groaned. This just proved he knew more about the Bat than anyone on this damned planet.

"Don't you seeeeee? He's just _using_ you to be my sitter! What, you think _he_ has time to be my caretaker? **HA!** " Joker traced his finger around the rectangular peek hole of the door goofily.

"Batman works alone and if you think you guys are partners of any kind, you're an imbecile. You're the only one who has the technology and the money to house the likes of me."

When Bruce tried to get a word out edgewise, the Clown kept on blabbering and proudly presenting his knowledge on how the mind of the Bat works.

"Trust me, if someone else had better tech and more money, he would just cruise on by you, Brucey. You're nothing special."

Bruce sighed. He really wished he could laugh at the Jester's excruciatingly hilarious words of irony and attitude toward this.

"You really have it all figured out, don't you? Well, I was willing to help. Your shenanigans cost me money, you know?" The playboy shrugged.

"Now, if you're quite finished trying to give me a lesson on Batman, we need to go over the ru-,"

"Is this so he could keep a close eye on me and ensure I won't ever break out again? What plans do you two have for me? Will he be making scheduled visitations?" Joker once more interrupted Bruce with a string of questions.

He was clearly not about to let this arrogant orphan think he stands a chance on keeping him under lock and key. Joker also despised being left out of the joke.

Bruce was beginning to lose his patience and it was going to be supper time soon. This meeting was lasting way longer than he intended because of Joker's jabber jaw. This is exactly what happened at every meeting they had; the Joker would talk for too long before Batman could smack him around and put him in his place.

_'Don't say anything Batman would say_ ,' Bruce told himself, glaring daggers at the Clown. ' _Just walk away now so you can finish sorting this out. He's not ready to listen_.'

As the former Red Hood awaited his answer with a whole lot of avidity, Bruce opened his mouth. He prepared to make the most imperative statement he'd ever make to the Joker as Bruce Wayne.

"Shut up, Joker."

With that, Bruce quickly shut the Joker's only way to see outside of his isolation and walked away from that hefty, sealed door. He made his way down the hall, a gratified half-smile on his face.

The Joker stood there with his mouth agape and his yellow-green orbs open so big that he appeared to have no eyelids. His long, almost pointed tongue snaked out and ran across his chapped bottom lip, a few giggles escaping from him. He backed away into his room cell slowly, his killer mind already thinking of ways to get that bitchy Billionaire at the end of a knife.

Bruce didn't get to say what he needed to for their first meeting but he knew it would not be the last. Relief settled upon his shoulders getting that over with, but filled with apprehension at how upset Joker must be now.

Oh well, he had all the time in the world to mellow out. The Clown didn't need to know the answers to everything. All he needed to know was that he was there because he was bad and needed to be placed under a better system. The Wayne system.

He also already informed Alfred he didn't want him to go near that door. He did not want that screwball tormenting his butler. Bruce put this on himself so he would be the one dealing with the Joker. No matter how stressful that was going to be, he was going to be the one to feed him, get him bathed, and keep a steady thumb over his green head.

The Vigilante Batman and the keeper of the Joker. Hmm, it was definitely not the best of both worlds. On top of those, he had his public image to be concerned with. He just hoped this would work out because at this point, he was out of options with this psycho. Bruce took the trip back to the Batcave where a hot meal under a silver dome lid was expecting him.

"God, _thank_ you, Alfred," Bruce murmured tiredly and sat down in his chair.

This time, he welcomed dinner instead of brushing it off for being too busy. He would need to get used to taking breaks from now on and actually get some sleep if he was going to keep the Joker. Alfred always thought ahead so Bruce knew he was aware of his well-hidden feelings.

He was going to need Alfred's support through this, and despite the butler's opposition to his master's decision, he would always be there for him. Bruce was also anticipating the city catching on to Joker's disappearance, but that was the least of his worries.

The next step for Bruce was going to be coming up with a system and routine that would fit his three lives: Batman, Bruce Wayne, and the Joker's warden.

**~To Be Continued.**


	4. A Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce gives the Joker a much needed bath before some unexpected details of the Joker’s life are spilt.

"Ohhh, Brucie!" Joker breathed as the most important man in Gotham held him by his ankles.

"Gods, J-Joker!" Bruce grunted, pressing into the Clown to keep him nice and still.

"B-Bruce!" The Harlequin chuckled, his body jerking against the restraint above him.

"JOKER, stop messing around!" Bruce growled, trying to subdue this infuriating Clown.

"I got your damn bubblebath like you asked, now take it, you smell like a barn animal!"

The Joker cawed with laughter as he was being forced into his bath by the angry rich boy - whom the Jester of Genocide had planned to physically torture at some point.

"Work for it Richie, WORK for it, haha!" Joker squawked, splashing around as he fought his captor.

It had been about a month now since he had woken up in this mysterious place, confusing all of his diabolic intuitions. He had promised Bruce he would behave this time if he got to take a much needed ablution but, as usual, the Clown Prince of Crime and Chaos couldn't resist. Couldn't resist making the Playboy's life _hell_ and punish him for keeping him off of Gotham's streets. Chastise him for thinking he was mentally strong enough to deal with the Joker. Keeping him from the Bat.

 _His_ Bat.

The same Bat that nearly took his life in a moment of hot rage and vicious detestation, almost giving Joker the last laugh. Literally. And inside the madman's head were songs of victory and praise for his Batman, accolading the hero for finally letting go and setting that disturbingly **serious** mind free.

It was all too much and too little at the same time. To break the Bat would be breaking the rules of nature and the unmitigated hope of the forever doomed city he obsesses over. The Clown Prince wanted to record the Vigilante succumb to all of that madness he'd been stuffing into into a locked box inside of himself. Let the people see who their hero really was.

That they were _no_ different. He was Joker. And Joker was him. Simple right?

 **No**. Because the stubborn, balloon-headed, rabies-infested Batman continues to refuse and deny this obvious fact of life. He will be reminded the hard way for sticking him in the discipline of this affluent nincompoop. To get to the Bat, he had to do what he always did best.

Break the hell out.

"It's really pathetic that I can't treat you like a human, Joker! You force me to shackle you and see you as nothing but a wild quadruped I have to keep in a zoo pen!" Bruce panted, gripping Both of the Joker's wrists in his hand.

Raising himself up, Mister Wayne stepped on the Clown's malachite head. Keeping him underwater for a moment, the Playboy went to work hastily by using the zip tie he had on himself for God forsaken moments like this. Bruce wrapped the tough plastic strap around his two wrists, ignoring the Clown's scratching fingers with nails layered in chipped, green polish. As long as Joker's legs were thrashing as hard as they were in the bathwater, he was alive.

The Jester tried to fight hard but he was weakened over his refusal to ingest enough food to keep him going right. There was a time where Bruce had to partake in giving Joker intravenous feeding through an IV, so he caught the Clown boy off guard while he laid in bed. Where he looked rather kind and peaceful than a homicidal maniac.

One furtive movement of holding a tranq gun through that rectangular peek hole later, and that Whack job was out. As still as he was while he slept.

Bruce was surprised he was even sleeping. Then again, the Joker had no entertainment other than playing with him and his consciousness.

As soon as the clandestine Superhero was finished and lifted his shoeless, wet foot off of the Clown, he took a step back. Joker hoisted himself up from the now lukewarm bath, coughing and spitting out the suds of the bubbles as well as the water. He examined his alabaster hands that were forcibly together; how pruned and elderly he had gotten.

Green strands of hair fell about his white face as he continued to choke, the tip of his nose and his cheeks blushing red from the strain. For the tiniest moment as his adversary gagged, Bruce felt a little bad. Until those crimson lips opened wide and nearly busted out his eardrums.

"YOU. ASSHOLE!" The Joker shrieked, waving his bound hands around at Bruce so fast it appeared he had multiple digits.

The pale, scrawny man sat up on his knees in the tub, stretching upwards to show the other male how wrinkly his hands had gotten from the bath water.

"Look at me, I look all old like your butler! We're practically _twins_ now! I am NOT going to wear his clothes, you don't even need two butlers you spoiled brat!"

Bruce regretted the Joker having seen Alfred. 

"Joker, really, y-,"

"And FURTHER more Richie, I am getting sick and tired of you making me do doltish things like eat and sleep!" Joker spit some more soap out, sinking back down into the tub to try and pry his wrists apart.

"You _have_ to eat, Clown, I told you! No matter what you think you are, no matter how superhuman you may feel, you are still a man! And I don't 'make' you sleep, you're so bored you do it yourself."

Yeah, Bruce knew that antagonizing the Psycho was the last thing he needed to do, but man oh man, did the Joker make it insuperable. The Billionaire showed a lot of restraint because he knew if he didn't have Batman inside of him...coaxing him along to help him deal with this buffoon...he would surely have done something unspeakable by now.

Alas, that was _Batman_ and not Bruce. Bruce was just a man, the same kind of man he was accusing Joker of being. Right now, he wasn't that Dark and mystical hero clad in shadow and heroism. He was Bruce fucking Wayne, and he had to stop seeing the Joker as that crime lord monster running amok on the streets.

That normal, Kevlar-less businessman watched the woeful Clown, expecting the lunatic to burst out in laughter like usual. When he didn't - and instead looked Bruce right in the face with those sunken, green eyes - just staring with poignance and heaviness but without emotion, It petrified Bruce. It made him the most uncomfortable when Joker did this, anything could be going through that resounding mind of Gotham's worst criminal.

The Villain was no longer contending with his bound hands and was instead searching his sitter's face, unable to think about what to say for the first time. His feeble body was hunched over in the bath tub, soapy bubbles splattered everywhere from their roughhousing. The rubber duck Joker asked for was toppled over on the floor, resting on its side in a puddle of water.   


Bruce really began to study the scars that now aligned the Joker’s body from when Batman hurled him into glass. Even though it had been a month, he could still see bruising and scabs on that pale, bony body. There were also older crevices on top of the fresher ones from their other battles, making the Clown look like the Caped Crusader’s personal canvas. Sad part was, Joker loved the pretty purples the Bat painted on him.

"Why?" The Joker asked in such a low voice he didn't even sound like himself. He almost sounded sane and it startled Bruce, knocking him out of the trance that was the Joker’s wounds.

"W-why _what_?" Bruce replied after catching his breath, having not noticed he was holding it in his throat.

Joker stared at Bruce with those mannequin eyes a moment longer before he snickered and sneered at the man in response. He casually grabbed the lavender shower puff ball floating beside him and attempted to scrub his lower body. The Fool leaned his back up against the tub for support, his slender but toned leg stretching out.

Bruce wanted to desperately crack up at the way the Clown fought to clean himself with his wrists together, and he felt ruthless for it. He also felt satisfaction making it tough for him when Joker's goal was to seemingly make his own existence taxing.

"Why what?" Bruce asked again, focusing on the Joker's question once more and trying not to sound so exasperated. He didn't want the looney toon to gain any enjoyment for causing him to be so vexed.

Another chuckle slid through the contemptible lips of the Clown, lowering his leg to focus on running the puff ball along his very visible collarbone instead. It was obvious he was thinking further into what he needed to say. He wanted to verbalize what was on his mind so badly, but the insecurity he felt at the mere thought of doing so made the Jester sick to his empty stomach.

The Billionaire quickly softened as he studied the subtle body language of the slim man before him, taking notice that there was something truly wrong. The Joker didn't hide anything, yet, he was clearly suppressing himself. Not boasting or speaking his mind like he always did or showing off that ego he was so proud of.

Quite the contrary of his nemesis, this was not the Joker he knew. This was another man looking beat down and slaughtered for whatever reason he wasn't fessing up to.

"Joker, you _can_ tell me," Bruce pressed, so strongly inquisitive as to what was eating up a man who has never been ate up before.

"I'm here to help you, I-,"

"Whydoyouwanttohelpme!?" Joker questioned loudly, interrupting Bruce being a reoccurring action of his. It was as if mentioning the concept of 'help' insulted the Clown Prince.

"You said you were only jailing me for the sake of Gotham and your stupid company!" Joker paused before continuing. "Oh, not to mention to win over the blessings of the big bad Bat! You never mentioned helping me when I first arrived or EVER!"

The wealthy man tensed his shoulders, processing the Joker's fast moving words. The crime boss looked stressed, his bound hands now gripping the edge of the tub hard. It was common for someone's skin to pale over when they applied pressure to an area, but in Joker's case, his fingers were a roseate tone when he did. Bruce assumed it was because he was already so powdery.

With a gulp, Bruce chose his words carefully because he had some prodding with this killer to do.

"Right, because that's how it was at _first_ ," Bruce corrected, keeping himself alert in case Joker had any motives to attack.

"After some reasoning with myself, I began to wonder if I could actually assist you instead of keeping you tied down. I told you, you're a man. Not a zoo animal." Bruce sighed, execrating himself for actually feeling this way. "It won't do you any good treating you like one."

With that knowledge, the Joker absorbed his every word, his brows knitting together. Some would say he held the expression of pain or concern, but Bruce knew better. The Clown was just processing it all and trying to figure out whether or not he was offended. Whether he was mad enough to throw in every two cents he could think of.

Thankfully he wasn't angry or offended, but he definitely appeared to be indifferent to what Bruce said. The Playboy's guts did a cartwheel when he noticed the devastation suddenly showing on his prisoner's now meek visage, the Joker's bottom lip quivering slightly.

"I was asking why, because...I needed to talk," Joker stated, the issue finally being surfaced.

"And I'm finished with this bath."

He slicked his jade hair back the best he could and shook from just noticing how cold he was. His walls were coming down, and it was only because Bruce had access to the one person he had intended to speak to about his predicament first.

Batman.

And the man who claimed he was trying to help Joker was now utterly and completely speechless. Bruce was nervous but excited at the same time that this madman - who was so hellbent on destruction and laughing at his own sick crimes - was falling apart in front of his very eyes. He had to stay calm and collected, pretend like it wasn't having such a huge effect on him. The last thing he wanted was for Joker to close back up.

"Of course, anything you want," Bruce said mildly before getting the chatter-tooth Joker out of the sloppy bathtub. He was being more mindful than ever now about Joker’s battle scars, unable to come to terms with himself at how gentle he was being with a mass murderer.

It was a silent mutual agreement for what came next after that session in the bathroom. Bruce had the zip tie cut from the Joker's wrists immediately and flung a towel around his shoulders, the flesh of the Harlequin's skin bumpy from the chill. The Clown had never felt shame in his life as the Joker, not until now. He didn't try any of his games as he sat on the bed of his cell room, watching Bruce pick out some clean clothes for him from his dresser drawer. He was not looking forward to the hideous apparel he knew he would be presented with.

He held the towel close for warmth until he quickly threw on the casual attire that was now splayed out: a plain violet T-shirt, grey sweatpants and blue boxer shorts. This made Joker shutter even more than from the cold.

"Yeah, I HATE the pants Brucie boy, but I'm too cold to fight with it. I'm going to need socks, and **please** tell me there's at least flowers on them," Joker groaned, hinting at how displeased he was with his boring attire.

He had been complaining about his clothes for a full month, and the only right thing the rich boy has done thus far was get him this purple shirt.

"You know there's not," Bruce told him, once again suppressing a chuckle and tossing some gross, white socks at the pouting Clown. He kept his eyes at a respectable direction while Joker did that.

Once Joker was fully clothed and busying himself by towel drying his hair, Bruce crossed his arms loosely in front of himself. He waited patiently for the criminal to get himself situated before he sat next to the Joker on his bed, giving him the go ahead to begin his talk.

What Bruce received was not at all anything he could have ever prepared for. It was all too hypnagogic to be coming from _the_ Joker and it all began with, "the only reason I got Batman's attention that night was because I was asking for _his_ help." That sent a feeling of dread into Bruce's core. Guilt.

Joker explained that he was trying to get Batman to help him because he had no one else to turn to. No one else who understood him in this worst time of his clown life. That the Bat was his only friend and his last resort. The Jester was sincerely crushed when he woke up without a Batman - a Batman that had nearly ended his life.

The Bachelor continued to listen no matter how nauseated he got hearing to what was an actual sob story of his archenemy. Joker went into full detail with how Harley finally came to her senses and took off, no longer there to give him that emotional support he liked from her. How no one in Gotham was willing to follow him any longer, leaving him without goons and backup.

All of these events lead up to the Clown Prince of Crime to go flat broke and hungry in one of the desolate hideouts he stayed in. For the very first time, he had nothing and was _nothing_. Joker had also made it clear to Bruce several times that this talk was meant for Batman and he was only hearing it because he had the access to him that he wanted. Needed.

Bruce's mind was spinning but he made sure to tell Joker that he appreciated him opening up, and he would ensure that his wish to tell the Dark Prince Charming his story would be granted. He couldn't believe he was feeling so acutely sorry for this evil man.

"What reaction do you expect to get out of him, exactly? Do you expect he'll let you stay with him in...whatever it is he sleeps in?" Bruce inquired, a tiny amused smirk on his lips.

"Hmm, I dunno, perhaps?" The Joker giggled, looking off in blissful thought.

"Would be nice. I bet it's full of guano, where ever it is, HAHA!" Joker chortled and smacked Bruce's arm, finding his laugh once more. 

This time, Bruce invited it in, relieved at how much better Joker felt and the hope he has given him. He had always been aware of the Clown's unhealthy obsession with the Bat, so part of him feared this was just encouraging something that was wrong.

_'Too damn late to turn back now_ ,' Bruce thought before blocking out the screams of logic from his conscience.

"Joker?"

"Hmm?" Joker fixated his attention back to the Billionaire, an almost twinkle in his eye.

"After this, I was just thinking. I should live up to my word about you being a human and not an animal," Bruce coughed, already feeling a tad awkward.

"I said I'd help you, so that's what I intend to do. And a visit from the Batman. So how about a deal?"

"I'm listening," the Joker Smiled wide, those crazy eyes being detectable once again.

"There will be guidelines, however, I do not currently deem it necessary for you to be a total prisoner here."

The maniac curled some of his green hair into his index finger before crossing his leg over his knee, raising a thick eyebrow at the socialite.

“So...what did you have in mind?” Joker asked curiously.

Bruce Wayne grinned before responding, “have you ever had a rich, billionaire playboy for a roommate?”

**~To Be Continued.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed that intro, lol! :D This was my longest chapter yet and I knew it had to be! Phew~ *wipes head* hope you all liked this installment! Xoxo


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